The Bridge Between Despair and Hope
by redcherryamber
Summary: The main characters of Advent Children think about their situations on the night before the events of the film. Can you tell who's who?  Quite angsty. Okay - pretty much angst. I need more sleep.


**An experiment.**

**Please R&R?**

**Takes place the night before the events of Advent Children.**

**In Edge and Healen and The Forgotten City sleep doesn't come easily for some. I hope it's clear which character is which.**

**"The best bridge between despair and hope is a good night's sleep." E. Joseph Cossman.**

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**The Bridge Between Despair and Hope**

He prefers to sleep outside now – either by the roadside, or in the church in the slums where the broken roof allows at least a glimpse of the sky. Tonight it's cold, out here on the dusty hillside overlooking Edge. The stars are very bright, no longer muted by Midgar's reactor glow.

She used to be frightened of the sky, but it sooths him, even though always the enemies had come from there – Jenova and Meteor. Sephiroth - with the silent sweep of a dusky wing.

Sometimes, if he sleeps beneath the rain, he imagines he can sense her presence.

Back in Edge, beside the ruins of Midgar, are the ruins of a life he tried to build – two business, two children, a woman who loves him so much more than he deserves. But what can he do? He knows there's nothing he can do.

And this disease – the disease of despair that Sephiroth has bequeathed him – only provides another excuse for failure.

It's easier, when you already know there's no point even trying.

He doesn't find it hard to fall asleep.

x-x-x

He comes here often.

There is a peace, beneath these barren, silver trees – these unreal pools that seem to lie too still – less like water than mercury – silver, heavy-seeming, with their moonlit metallic gleam. There is never any breeze here. No birds sing.

He knows of other places in similar stasis: a coffin in a hidden cellar; a crystal cave. Places where answers are not demanded – where atonement is simply a matter of time passing.

Time passes differently for a man who cannot die.

But perhaps it is time to shake off certain memories?

Yesterday he saved two lives – two fragile mortals, clothed in the tatters of a uniform he remembers from a time that seems so long ago it ought to be forgotten. But how the memories cling!

Beneath the trees, the woman and the man are sleeping now. They clutch to life with a determination that astonishes him – in spite of so much pain. He thinks that they will live.

Tomorrow he will return them to the world that they long for through the hurt.

Tonight he will watch over them, and wonder why they want to go back so desperately.

Why they want to go back at all.

x-x-x

The other two are sleeping. They are less alive than he is – that's what he thinks. That's what mother tells him. They are for him to use as necessary – to protect him and work for him until the task is achieved.

He paces restlessly between the trees. This place is where she told him to come – but he hates its cold stillness. Hates it! He needs to keep searching until he finds her – until the reunion is complete. Then there will be time for rest.

He wishes the demon had not taken the Shin-Ra servants from them – he wants something to take the edge of this relentless wakefulness – this burning anticipation! It's unbearable – having to wait like this – while fools stand in his way at every turn. Souba in his hand slashes at air, dual sharp white lines slicing the night.

The demon was an elemental force. Mother warned him to leave it alone. But tomorrow he will be dealing with humans: weak, and stupid and easy to kill. Tomorrow he will find the ones who took her – the other Shin-Ra servants in the helicopter – he will make them hurt for daring…

Perhaps Big Brother has her? The traitor to the cause? But he thinks not. He thinks it's Shinra. He promises himself these things:

Very soon now, Shinra will pay for his crimes.

He will watch his city burning.

He will witness Sephiroth's return.

He will despair, before he dies.

x-x-x

Tomorrow, at nine, the man from the brewery… The washing, or Marlene will have nothing to wear for school… Denzel's appointment – but really, is there any point? Pointless appointment… Anything has to be worth a try, though, because they're looking for a cure all the time…

He tries so hard to be brave.

If only…

Marlene's wobbly tooth. Is it possible she still believes in tooth fairies, after everything? Well, why not?

Belief in something has to be better than…

If only…

Check the books for the delivery service, because Gaia knows, _he _won't remember, wherever he is!

Bread, milk, juice, tissues, bandages, peanuts for the bar, iced buns. Denzel likes iced…

So sleepy! At least… too tired… to dream…

Oh no! _Please_ not now…

"All right, Denzel. I'm coming!"

x-x-x

Once we were all part of the same whole and it was good then. He, and I, and he, we should be one… should be I only… one I – the same one. We are only we because of those who took her from us, and those who stopped us the first time when we were Him, who we shall be again. This world is grey and cold and filled with shadows. We… I… do not belong here. When I look through these eyes that are His eyes and not His eyes, it makes me so weary to have to hold to this form that is not my… our… His… true form. I will do as Mother – as Kadaj – as Loz – as He – wish… but I wish only to be whole again… to be together. We… I… cannot think, cannot take pleasure in anything except what brings us closer to that re-joining… When I fight, when we kill, it is to reach reunion, and that brings a kind of joy. We never should have been sundered – I never should have been fragmented like this… It is so wrong. Is it nearly time? We… I… will fight with all the strength of this shifting being to bring us back together – no matter if I die – no matter if anyone…

As long as we all end together.

x-x-x

He can't sleep.

He knows he should be sleeping, because there's going to be trouble, and he's always been able to sense when a storm's brewing – that prickling sense of electricity in the air that sparks something inside him, too. It's what makes him good at his job – his finely tuned instincts – his ability to pick up clues other people miss, lightning fast.

He thinks that he'll need all his wits and his speed tomorrow, if they come for the thing in that box, and he should be sleeping so that he has at least a chance of being ready.

But Tseng and Elena! Having to leave them behind is the hardest thing he's ever done – and that's no throwaway line, either, because he's done things many times that normal people would baulk at – would flinch from – would fail to do. Things better people might refuse…

Without Tseng and Elena he feels… fractured.

There used to be many more of them – now there are four. For the last two years they've been here, with the Boss, trying to make things right. Perhaps it has always been futile, but that's not going to stop him from trying, yo! Perhaps tomorrow their sins will finally catch up with them, and he'll have to pay the debts he owes.

So many debts, he owes.

Every time he's pulled someone alive from the ruins of Midgar, it's been a life to set against the ones he's taken. If he can save anyone tomorrow – a man, or woman, or child, caught in the crossfire of a war that began more than two-thousand years ago and never seems to end – it will be another mark on the score sheet he keeps in his head.

The tally is nowhere near even yet.

Sleep! He tells himself, burying his head under the pillow to shut out encroaching daylight.

But he can't sleep.

x-x-x

She didn't talk, and she didn't die. Something to hold on to, like the Director's hand reaching for hers in the darkness when she thought she was coming apart and it would have been easier to just let go.

Pain hits her again – something bruised inside, catching at her lungs, sharp as the edges of their blades and cruel as their smiles. She closes her eyes and does the thing she's learned to do these last days and nights – does not deny or struggle or rage – only breathes and lets it take her and observes its slow advance, its peak, its gradual withdrawal. She knows pain now – its habits, its nasty tricks – its insidious intent to possess utterly. She makes herself smile, knowing it has not outwitted her, not yet.

Beside her, she hopes Tseng is sleeping now. He had the worst of it – telling them that she knew nothing – that he was in charge of the mission and the only one to know its aims. They seemed to believe him, and she feels so guilty that mixed in with the horror and the worry she felt for him, was relief she can't deny that she felt for herself, as they took him away and left her alone all that first night.

They came for her in the morning.

And then there were nights, and days…

They would both be dead now, if Vincent Valentine hadn't saved them.

As he carried them through the trees – Chaos lending him strength – she'd heard Tseng whisper, "Once a Turk…"

Vincent – or Chaos – had made a sound that could have been a laugh. Or a growl.

She's not proud of her feelings in the cave – but like the pain, she has to acknowledge and move on. Tomorrow Vincent will take them back, and they will find some cure materia, and be ready to fight again.

She didn't talk, and she didn't die.

And once a Turk…

x-x-x

It's a good game, this one, even if he's not sure he understands the rules. There's a lot of fighting, and that's good – and riding fast machines – and shooting. He likes the noises – the engines and the guns: bang, bang, bang!

There have been people to play with – the pretty blonde girl and the dark man with long hair who wouldn't talk. There is also the red demon, but Kadaj says they have to leave him alone.

Tomorrow, Kadaj says, there will be more people to join the game. Kadaj will tell him what to do and he will do it, and Yazoo will be with him, so it will be all right.

He wishes for two things: to make mother happy, and to make Yazoo happy. Making mother happy is the same as making Kadaj happy, but Yazoo often looks sad, and that's not right, and it makes him sad too.

Yazoo longs for all this to be over.

If that's what Yazoo wants, then he wants it too. But… it's fun, isn't it? Being here, and having all this time to play?

When it's over, maybe they can all play – him, and Kadaj, and Yazoo.

They can all play, together.

x-x-x

Reno is awake, he can tell. He's too quiet and too still to be sleeping, and after nearly two years of sharing a room here in the cramped accommodation at Healen Lodge, he knows his partner's habits well. In his sleep Reno sometimes calls out, starts, sometimes sits up with a shout. He never remembers in the morning.

If Reno's wakeful quiet disturbs him, he can always go and sleep elsewhere: Tseng's bed has lain empty these two weeks, and Elena's. Or there's a sofa in the sitting room. But he thinks he'll stay.

Tomorrow could be the day they come for Jenova. And then?

Well, then Reno and he will do what they do, and fight until they can't fight any more.

There's nothing else to be said, really.

He turns over, and closes his eyes, falling asleep at last to Reno's unaccustomed silence.

x-x-x

Some things are simply not options: giving up information, failing a mission, dying while there is still work to be done.

Pain is irrelevant to this – it is only another consideration to factor in – to be noted and dealt with.

He has faced pain before – a deeper wound than these – inflicted by a sharper sword. But the same, unnatural green eyes…

Both times there has been a woman he would gladly have died to protect; he has failed to protect her twice. Both times, she has been so much stronger than her fragile appearance would suggest. Rufus says these cycles are the essence of human life – patterns that repeat again and again. In which case, why fight? If the repetition is inevitable? Why not give in to that momentary temptation in the cave, when his life was balanced so finely that he believes a very small effort of will would have ended it? Because there are only these two paths: life or death…

He hopes Elena is sleeping.

He wonders if Rufus Shinra is sleeping, far off in Healen Lodge, or if the stigma is bad tonight, and keeping him awake. Rufus has always chosen to live, and to fight. Perhaps he has a vision of a better future? As long as Rufus keeps fighting, he will keep fighting too.

Death is not an option.

x-x-x

My father's scientists did not understand what they had awakened when they unearthed Jenova. They did not know what they had unleashed when they created Sephiroth. And now, it seems, we have witnessed the spawning of a new evil – these three echoes of the nightmare that will not vanish upon waking, any more than the marks of the stigma can be washed away.

My sins manifest in my flesh? The sins of the father? Such poetic justice.

Well, I am my father's heir, for good, or ill.

But the stigma is indiscriminate, and the children are guilty of nothing, and that angers me more than I would have thought possible.

Everywhere I see waste – wasted lives, wasted potential, the ruins of a once-great city.

Is it foolish to hope that Tseng and Elena live?

Foolish or not, I wish it to be true.

What have I learned?

Only this: to stand against the darkness – to start again – to rebuild. To live, and to fight, and to find a cure for what it is that infects me – that infects us all.

If Tseng and Elena are dead, I will fight with Reno and Rude.

If Reno and Rude should fall, I will fight alone.

I think the greatest evil is despair. And I will fight against it, until I die.

So come on Sephiroth! Come, if you're coming. I won't say I'm not afraid – but I'm not letting go of hope. Creature of darkness – one-winged abomination – come! The advent is over – dawn is almost here.

I'm ready for you.

What are you waiting for?

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**Thanks for reading. **


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